


Fruit Maniac

by PinkMeelk



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cannibalism, Creepy, Dark, Fruit, Gen, Gen Work, Gore, Horror, Murder, Original Fiction, Shock, Short Story, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkMeelk/pseuds/PinkMeelk
Summary: There's nothing really special about me. If someone was to describe me, they'd pretty much go with "ordinary" or "boring". Nothing catches the eye. Nothing shares my guilty secret.My hunger lusts wild and the voices overwhelm, yet I keep them contained. But I cannot wait any longer. With the victims awaiting downstairs, it is time to fulfill my wicked desire.Time for a banquet.





	Fruit Maniac

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I don't see myself being the best person to write a horror story since I didn't have much experience doing so before, but I truly hope I did a good job rewriting one of the oldest stories of mine.
> 
> Ages ago I was stuck on a heavily restricted diet and hunger drove me insane. I wasn't allowed to eat anything, except fruits and veggies. This was the time when I made this story just to have a couple of laughs with my friends ("Milk has gone totally cuckoo, haha"), and it wasn't as heavily described as it is now.
> 
> Being unable to have any citrus fruits nowadays, I'm desperately craving one. So...who's laughing now, Milk?

There's nothing really special about me.

I'm young, still single, have a couple of old friends, I work a nine to five job and go out rarely. An introverted nature, I usually stay inside, busy with simple little hobbies of mine, wasting the time away. So if someone was to describe me, they'd pretty much go with " _ordinary_ " or " _boring_ ".

Nothing catches the eye. Nothing shares my guilty secret.

Sometimes, when it gets a little tense, I go outside for a walk in the park. It's peaceful in the evening, not a single soul in sight. Although it's bad for me, my entire being lusts for a person's sight.

Once someone shows up, unexpecting an assaulter, that's when I go down for an attack. I hunt them down. Tirelessly, following every step of the way, stalking, learning routines. It's wild, but I would do everything to satisfy the wicked desire.

The end of their peaceful life is bound in my basement.

But it's not the end. I keep my victims down there, carefully preserving life, sustaining just enough for them to hold on. The more they worry about their demise, the sweeter they become. I'll wait till they are ripe fully or until my hunger overwhelms me. And only then I proceed to have my precious little banquet and enjoy the celebration of lustful taste.  
  


Today is the day. I can't stand my craving anymore. The voice calls out to me from deep inside and I follow, barely holding myself together. A lamp's faint light guides the way as I stroll down the old creaky stairs inside the basement.  
The smell of fear and tension fills the air. With every step, my victims know I'm getting closer.

This time I got an Orange couple. A nice feast, nothing too rare, but they will be enough to satisfy my hunger for a couple of days.

The man desperately looks into my eyes, when I approach closer. Even after hanging in there for days, he still has a vivid hope it's all just a weird joke. Oh fruit, you're too innocent.

While I prepare the instruments, Orange dares to speak, tries to talk me out of this. His body shakes uncontrollably as he wiggles the limbs, trying to get out of the chains. I grab the knife and come close. Swiping fingers across the blade, I can't hold down a smile - I've grown so used to being a sly pervert, who yearns for pain and torment, but every time I can't put it away.  
  


Let the fun begin.

Before the man has any time to react, I quickly swish the blade into his guts. He screams and pushes back, trying to get it out, squirming desperately. Fruit juices spray from the wound, down his weak body. Some drops splashed onto my shirt, painting it orange. He pisses himself out of fear and liquids get mixed onto the floor.

Knife out. Filled with ecstasy, I stab again and again. Ripping his body open, tearing through pulped meat and organs. I get my hands inside, he's warm and juicy, the feeling I have from rummaging in his pulps is indescribable. Orange's muscles twitch in the response of my every action. How sweet is the voice of agony, how beautiful is the grimace of pure horror.

And just like that, it's all over. Life completely drains out of his body and Orange hangs in place without any movement. No screams, no weeps. The man is slowly getting cold, yet I still want more. How unfortunate it has to end so quickly.

It's time to consume. I peel the orange skin with the knife and eagerly bite into loose flesh, that's hanging from it. He's so fresh and preciously sweet with a tint of a sour undertone. My mouth is watering from even thinking that. I press my body against his and lick the wounds out of excitement, before slicing him and eating what's left.  
  


The next victim hangs up close. Weeping barely audible, she's terrified of what she witnessed. The Orange girl knows she is next and there's no way to avoid it, yet still tries to block herself in a last attempt to hide.

How should I deal with her, I wonder. My hand gently caresses her body, as her body strains. The girl cries silently, tears flow down her reddish cheeks, and she sniffles.

I know what to do.

When I dispose of the knife and grab a different one, Orange bursts into screams. Twisting her arms and legs rapidly, she begs me to let her go. Her breakdown is so precious, as her voice cracks again and again, but the girl doesn't dare to end her prayers. Her tiny body smashes against the wall behind in an attempt to be louder, Orange goes out of breath yelling for help, but no one will hear.

I lick my fingers clean. They're soaked in her beloved's juices and I digest them for the last time. Flavor melts away on my tongue as I gulp it all down. And after all that - a cup of water. I don't want their beings to mix and ruin the taste.

The girl screams again and that's when her voice finally breaks. She coughs violently, trying to let out a sound, but it comes out as whispers. Her desperation sounds so lovely.

I cut through her skin. Carefully, avoiding the flesh. I don't want to ruin it now after all she's been through. I pet the Orange lightly, thrusting the knife deep inside her flesh and ripping a part of it. And as she opens her mouth in a silent scream, I eagerly push it inside her throat. Feeling her own meat inside her mouth, the girl immediately throws up.

Orange wiggles, out of her mind, as I open her skin further. More and more pulps get revealed, now her body is completely clean and fresh. The smell of orange hits my nose and I inhale deeply.

Once again the girl is present with her own self on my hands...although, this time her eyes are lifeless. Drupe didn't make it, it seems. I sigh.

Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, I'm still going to enjoy what is left of her, just wish we had a little bit more fun.

I slash the meat out of her body anxiously, eager to try her out now after the little torture session is over. Quickly cleaning the capsule of a slice, I put it in my mouth, savoring. The taste is truly wonderful - an agony made her ferment a bit, giving out a drunk taste, and I salvage upon her sweet flavor before eating more.  
  


The Oranges are now done. But so many more are awaiting my lust - bananas, apples, strawberries, peaches. The count is enormous and every one is delicious in their own way. I don't care about their race, status, or anything at all in that matter. Fruits are fascinating and their taste, while different, is so exciting and pleasureful.

Every time I clean up, thoughts invade my mind, I can't imagine how long this is going to continue. How many fruit lives have to end in my persuade of hunger, until they find out about me. Their own kind stuck in a wicked desire of flesh. I will be caught eventually, this is obvious, yet should I bother how many of them suffer?

For now, I don't, and the monster in me is satisfied.

_T h e b a n q u e t w a s v i c t o r i o u s ._


End file.
